


Bruised Apples and Bruised Hearts

by DittyWitty



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Arguing, Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Steve Rogers, Jealous!Bucky, Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, SteveBucky gift exchange 2018, double dates, dumb boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWitty/pseuds/DittyWitty
Summary: 'Growing up, Steve didn’t have many friends. He was always getting his ass kicked by bullies and then was laughed at by everyone else. The ones who didn’t do just pitied him when his back was turned, but not enough to actually become someone he could trust.He always wanted friends, he was never a loner type, it only became that way when he dulled the loneliness he felt inside. Then, when he was around the age of fourteen, that loneliness turned into something more, wanting someone else in a more romantic way. He remembers not only looking at girls, as he was supposed to, but the boys in his classes, men in the moving pictures that he saw. He always thought that maybe that was why he was always bullied and ignored because they all just knew.Then, he met Bucky. It was like a breath of fresh air, a breath he could actually take, as if he didn’t have asthma. Bucky saved his dumb ass from a fight, dusted off his clothes, and bought him an apple.'-or: Bucky takes Steve on a double date and jealousy ensues.Written for the SteveBucky Gift Exchange!





	Bruised Apples and Bruised Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Hi! This is a gift for [stovenbucket](https://www.stovenbucket.tumblr.com), who wanted a pining get together type thing. You should follow them on tumblr, they make great fanart. Also pre war is my jam. Enjoy :)

Growing up, Steve didn’t have many friends. He was always getting his ass kicked by bullies and then was laughed at by everyone else. The ones who didn’t do just pitied him when his back was turned, but not enough to actually become someone he could trust. 

 

He always wanted friends, he was never a loner type, it only became that way when he dulled the loneliness he felt inside. Then, when he was around the age of fourteen, that loneliness turned into something more, wanting someone else in a more romantic way. He remembers not only looking at girls, as he was supposed to, but the boys in his classes, men in the moving pictures that he saw. He always thought that maybe that was why he was always bullied and ignored because they all just _knew._

 

Then, he met Bucky. It was like a breath of fresh air, a breath he could actually take, as if he didn’t have asthma. Bucky saved his dumb ass from a fight, dusted off his clothes, and bought him an apple. 

 

“Well, you’re gonna need to the protein,” Bucky told him as he dragged him to the nearest grocery on 6th ave. Steve made face, and tried to pull away, because being saved is one thing, but pointing out the obvious fact that he was too skinny was just adding insult to injury. He gets it, okay? He _knows_ that he isn’t a tall, muscular man like everyone else, that he doesn’t look like Bucky. 

 

“You don’t want to bruise do you? C’mon, let’s go.” Bucky commanded and tried to move, but Steve wasn’t having it. 

 

“I don’t even know you.” Steve stood in his place. Bucky rolled his eyes. 

 

“James Buchanan Barnes, at your service. But my friends call me Bucky. Happy now?” Bucky held his hand out, but Steve didn’t take it yet. 

 

“We’re friends?” Steve asked him because he had never had a friend before, but in the films he sees with his Ma, he’s pretty sure it doesn’t happen like this. Bucky’s hand was still outstretched to Steve.

 

“You think I spend a couple cents on every punk I meet?” Bucky cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrow. Steve took his hand, smiling, liking the way that a smile reached Bucky’s face too. 

 

And that was that. From then on, each and every time Bucky pulled Steve’s "punk ass" outta a fight, he bought him an apple, and when they were poor and it had bruises on em, Bucky would laugh and say the apple was just like Steve. Like clockwork, Steve would always punch him in the shoulder, telling him that now Bucky will be like the apple too. 

 

-

 

It didn’t seem fair to develop a crush on his one and only friend. But it still happened. There was just something about Bucky, many things actually, that drew Steve to him. The way he smiled, the crookedness to it, the way his lips looked when he would bite them before a big date out of nerves, all swollen and red. His hair, thick and dark, Steve itched to touch it, his eyes were a crystal blue that Steve wishes he had the talent to capture on paper. His broad shoulders and muscles that showed after he came out of the shower. And not just his looks, the way his laugh sounded, or the way he touched his shoulder all the time, and how he would always want to be around Steve and make him laugh. Every single part of Bucky, he really, really, _really_ liked. He couldn’t bring himself to say love, not just yet, or ever. 

 

It was hard to keep inside, the feelings he had for Bucky. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it, he loved what they had, and telling him would ruin everything. Bucky might not kick him to the curb, but he knew it would change things. So he never said anything. Never said anything when Bucky would wrap his arm around him in his sleep as they curled into each other on those cold winter nights, or when Bucky would touch him unwarranted, not that Steve was complaining. It was difficult, to be around Bucky sometimes and keep all this inside. 

 

Then, Steve’s Ma died, and Bucky moved in, the generous bastard that he was.  

 

It was a melancholy experience, a mixture of acceptance and grief. But ever since he was born into a world where his kind isn't wanted, the sickly and queer, he learned that living life just came with a bit of pain, albeit with a side of happiness. He could live with it. If he could live with the pain of asthma, flat feet, scoliosis, and everything else, he could live with the pain of being in love with his best friend. 

 

-

 

"We're going out!" Bucky had practically screamed when he rushed into their tiny one-room apartment after work. Steve shut his sketchbook abruptly to stop Bucky from seeing the very detailed drawing he was working on as he was daydreaming about that said man. 

 

"Again?" 

 

"Yes, again. Stop whining. Gotta find you a girl, don't we?"

 

"Whatever. What's her name?" Steve asked. 

 

"Lucy. I haven't met her, but Caroline speaks the world of her. She's an artist, so maybe while me and Caroline are living it up on the dance floor, you both can talk about DaVinci or some shit."

 

"That sounds amazing." Steve deadpans. "When are you gonna give it up, Bucky?" Steve asked. It was a painful reminder each and every time Bucky tried to set him up on a double date, whenever Bucky went out on his own and came back, if at all, smelling like perfume and sex. Rubbing salt in Steven Grant Rogers' love-filled wound. 

 

"Never. Can't let you sulk here all alone. We leave in twenty. So, I would, you know, get ready." Bucky informed him. Steve rolled his eyes, and got up to the bathroom, going to fix up his hair to avoid looking at Bucky so that he couldn't tell how hurt Steve really was over the whole situation. 

 

He stood in front of the mirror, pretending to fix up. It didn't matter what he did, the girls would never show any true interest, at worst the ones showing actual disgust towards him. It didn't change anything, he still would be short and skinny without any other qualities to show for it. It doesn't matter what Bucky says each night when he's trying to make Steve feel better, how the girls were idiots if they couldn't see "what a handsome and downright amazing man you are Steve, really, screw 'em." 

 

It was all bullshit to Steve, even if Bucky's notice of these made up qualities Steve had made his heart all warm. But that didn't mean anything, because if Bucky did mean it in the way Steve would want him to. If he did then he wouldn't be going out on these dates, and would really be taking Steve out, dancing with him and holding him and loving him. It didn't mean jack shit. 

 

Bucky came in the bathroom a couple minutes later, and hip-checked Steve out of the way so he could look in the mirror, hair gel in hand. He turned to Steve, holding out the pomade with pleading eyes and asked if Steve could do it for him, because Steve does it best, apparently. 

 

It's nice though, to touch Bucky's hair like this, even if he feels likes a damn housewife while he does it. 

 

-

 

The date was going okay. His date, Lucy, who was somewhat attractive even with her caked on makeup and minimal waist, did seem to have an interest in him. She was funny, and seemed to think Steve was funny too, with their matching dry and sassy humor. even if she had a laugh that was bit weird, Steve thought it was cute the way she tried to cover her mouth with her hand, and the way she shook her shoulders, laughing with her whole body and not just her honey brown eyes. 

 

Steve was having a good time, and sure, he was looking over at Bucky with Caroline nearly every five minutes while they danced together, but he was doing okay. It was a bit hard to look at, the way he held her. Steve had asked Lucy if she wanted to dance, but she shook her head.

 

"I can't dance for nothing, wouldn't want to give you bruises in the morning." She tells him, and it makes Steve think of apples, of course. 

 

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can't really dance either. Wanna get a drink?"

 

"I'd like that very much." She says, giving him a warm smile. She grabbed his hand, and led it to the bar, it felt warm. He couldn't help but think that it was too soft and small and wasn't calloused enough for him. 

 

Bucky and Caroline made their way over eventually, flushed with sweat and smiling wide. Bucky sat down next to Lucy and Steve at the bar, signaling for a drink. 

 

"Having a nice time?" He questioned.

 

"Yeah, I would think so. How's dancing?"

 

"James is a great dancer." Caroline comments, a dazed smile on her face while she leans against Bucky. They fall into a playful conversation, the four of them, and Steve catches Bucky looking at him weirdly as it goes on, and as Steve and Lucy laugh more and more. He gets a bit more quiet, uncharacteristically so. It turns into something bitter, something angry. He barely speaks to Lucy and Caroline, only bringing out curt responses to everything Lucy says. 

 

"Ever wonder what's out there?" Lucy questions after a couple of drinks, a bit tipsy. Steve cocks his head to the side, motioning for her to elaborate. 

 

"Like, you know, how there's so many other people out there living these other lives. Sometimes I just wonder what they're like, and I kinda want to experience it for myself." She confesses. Steve looks at her with wide awe, the deep profound thought she possessed. He opens his mouth to respond, to tell her how often he does, how every damn day he thinks about it, when Bucky speaks first.

 

"Now why the hell would I think about that?" Bucky slurs, his brows furrowed. 

 

"Bucky!" Steve backhands his shoulder, appalled by the rudeness of it. He was sure by now, Bucky was disagreeing just to disagree. He'd been doing it every single time Lucy spoke, about her love of dresses and hatred of her boss. It was so unlike Bucky, and he knew half the shit he was disagreeing with was filled with lies. Bucky loved to dress nice, even if he wouldn't admit it, and there wasn't a damn person in the entire city that hated their Boss like Bucky did. 

 

"What? It's true. I like to be happy with what I have."

 

"That's not what I'm-" Lucy goes to explain herself, as if she even owes Bucky an explanation. 

 

"You sure, doll?" Bucky asks her, his voice dripping with condescendingness and sarcasm. 

 

"You know what, I think I'd like to go home now." Lucy gets up abruptly, opening her purse to search for money. 

 

"Me too." Caroline gets up too, her being silent up until now after being ignored by Bucky for the past half hour. 

 

"Are- are you sure?" Steve asks, still a bit stunned at the whole situation. 

 

"Yeah, I'm pretty damn sure," Lucy tells him, her face angry and firm. 

 

"Can I at least walk you home?" Steve asks. 

 

"I'd rather not be around James right now, thank you very much. Maybe I'll see you around Steve," 

 

"I'm sor-" Steve begins, but she's already gone. He turns his head towards Bucky, who has the same look of anger and spite on his face, his brows furrowed. Steve's mouth open and closes, looking for words, finding the best choice of words so Bucky fucking Barnes can really see how damn angry he is right now. 

 

But if there's nothing that hurts James Buchanan Barnes more than silence from Steven Grant Rogers. 

 

So, he walks away, more so storms out. The cold air hits his nose, making him shiver, but he doesn't care. Lucy and Caroline are long gone now, nowhere to be seen. So, he keeps on walking. He doesn't want to go home, because he knows for a fact Bucky is going to be going after him. The last thing he wants to see it Bucky right now. 

 

How could Bucky pull this shit? After years of pushing Steve on blind and double dates, talking about being with girls, being sad whenever Steve doesn't want to go at first, as soon as a date actually starts to head the right direction for once, he can't be happy for Steve. 

 

He could really see himself getting over his feelings for Bucky with this girl, he really could. Sure, no one gets over James Buchanan Barnes, but at least he could pretend that everything was okay, maybe take his mind off of his feelings for Bucky. And even if she couldn't be a girl to go steady with, she could still be someone to pass the time with; as a friend or as a partner. 

 

That's all gone to shit now. Great. 

 

He sulks off to a bar he goes to every once and while, those days the want that itches underneath his skin, the want for Bucky that is, needs to be scratched. Queers, or the ones who go to these types of bars, aren't looking for anything but a good fuck, or just a place where they can be themselves. They don't care about personality, and a guy of Steve's size ain't such a bad thing. They aren’t focused on marriage like the other girls are, for obvious reasons. 

 

Steve usually doesn't go home with them, or their version of a home; a back alley or the dirty bar bathroom, only once or twice he has. He wasn't proud of it, and it didn't do much, he still loved Bucky just as much. It's a crazy notion to think that a quick blow job in the bathroom could ever put out the fire that was his love for Bucky. Most of the times, he just goes to get drunk and lets himself rave about Bucky some of the people who are there just for the same reason, and then they would talk about whoever they were pining over, and it would just make Steve think about Bucky more. 

 

It felt a lot less lonely that way. 

 

The bar is pretty full tonight, and there's women and men sitting all around, some feeling each other up in the corner, and most just getting pretty close to it everywhere else. 

 

He needs a drink. Or four, maybe five.

 

Steve motions at the bartender, he thinks her name is Liz, but surely that's a fake name. No one goes by their real name here, for no one here would ever know Steven Grant Rogers, but they sure as hell would know him as Jonathan, or John if they’re friendly. 

 

Liz pours him a glass of whiskey, his usual drink. As soon as the glass hits the bartop, Steve grabs it and brings it to his lips, tipping the glass back as soon as he can. He motions for another, and she gives him a look, raising her perfectly shaped brown eyebrow.

 

"Rough night?" She asks, and Steve nods slowly and groggily. 

 

"Let me guess, Lewis, that fella you go on about all the damn time?" Liz inquires as she pours him another drink. Whenever Steve drunkenly raves about Bucky, he doesn't even think to compromise his identity, giving him the first name that popped in his drunken brain. Liz, and most likely all of the other patrons of this bar, have heard all about  Lewis, Steve never shuts up about him. 

 

"Yep." Steve tells her, popping the 'p', right before downing his new drink. Liz says nothing, only giving him a sad look before moving on to another customer that just called for a beer. Steve isn't expecting her to come back to listen about Lewis, and he doesn't feel an ounce of disappointment when she doesn't return. He likes it that way sometimes, the days where he's embarrassed by his feelings for Bucky; when he feels like a damn idiot and his pride is too big to let others see him that way. As an idiot, or a queer who fell for his skirt-chasing best friend. 

 

Tonight, his mind is blank. He was already a little drunk from before, and after his third glass, his thoughts seem to be fuzzing a bit. He doesn't mind, and maybe it's better this way. Time, also seemed to be working this way, blurring together and whatnot, because when he looked at the small clock hanging up near the right top corner of the wall in front of him, it seemed that nearly two hours had passed. 

 

So, he slaps some money on the table, and stumbled out of there, missing the worried look that Liz sends his way. 

 

-

 

He somehow makes it home, even though he did definitely fall over a couple times on the way there. He struggles with the lock for a few minutes, and then finally gets it unlocked, and pushes through the door. 

 

For the first time in maybe seven years, he's not happy to see Bucky when he comes home. Steve's stomach hurts, his legs feel weak and the room is looking funny, so the only thing he really wants to do right now is sleep. But Bucky's is just looking at him now, with those big icy blue eyes, a bit red-rimmed, and looking filled with sorrow. He's laying on the couch on his side right now, curled up in a fetal position. 

 

"Hey," Bucky greets him, his eyes apologetic. Steve looks at him, the anger that had recently somewhat dissolved after a couple hours of the heated exchange had bubbled back up, making its way into Steve's bloodstream. His eyes narrow, and he scoffs or at least tries too. He's very drunk right now. 

 

"Wha’ do ya wan’?" 

 

"I'm really sorry Steve," Bucky apologizes, his eyes soft. He opens his mouth again, as if he's about to say more, but closes it, and Steve's too drunk to pry. 

 

"Whatever, Buck. I'm going to sleep," Steve waves him off, and walks off to their shared bed, not waiting for a response. He hopes that Bucky gets the message. He doesn't want to talk to Bucky right now, he's hurt, for fucks sake. And tired, and feeling sore about all of this. He doesn't want to talk about feelings, or even forgive Bucky tonight, because what if Bucky just does this again? He hates himself for thinking so lowly of Bucky and hates himself even more for wanting Bucky to sweat a bit, just to teach him a lesson. 

 

Doesn't mean he won't do it, he's too drunk and angry to think twice about pushing away those thoughts.

 

-

 

Because Steve was an idiot who didn't think to drink water last night, he woke up with a raging hangover, his stomach feeling like it was being shaken violently and his head pounding like crazy. Great. He might have been too drunk to remember, but he's pretty sure Bucky didn't join him in their bed and slept on the couch, and for once, Steve is actually a bit grateful for it, who knows what he might have done then. 

 

Bucky was sitting on their couch, reading the paper. He takes notice to Steve's tossing and looks up at him, the apologetic nervous face that Steve actually does remember. 

 

"Good Morning," Bucky greets him. Steve groans, and gets out of bed, his head hurting even more from the movement. He takes the short walk over to their small kitchen, if one could even call it that, and fixes up a glass of water, leaning against the counter and sipping on it slowly. 

 

"Hungover?"

 

"Very," Steve croaks, rubbing his eyes with his spare hand. Bucky doesn't say anything, only places the newspaper off to the side and gets up, walking towards Steve.

 

"Want some coffee?"

 

"We have that?" Steve asks him, last time Steve checked, they were too broke for such luxuries.

 

"I might have grabbed some grounds this morning," Bucky shrugs, a small smile on his face, though his eyes still have some worry in them. Steve opens his mouth to protest, they don't have the funds for coffee, not when they could be spending it on things like medicine or meat or clothes or literally anything else.

 

"Steve, it's fine, I just want to apologize." Bucky shuts him up, and Steve clicks his mouth shut, looking away from Bucky. Right, last night. He doesn't know what Bucky's about to say, and he honestly doesn't know if he wants to. He doesn't really want to get into last night, wants to avoid the pressing question of where Steve stormed off to. What's he supposed to say? He can't just drop such a bomb like, 'oh yeah, I was just in this queer bar'. Hell would freeze over before he pulled something like that. 

 

"I'm really sorry Steve, seriously. I know you liked her." Bucky sighs, looking away from Steve. It only just reminds Steve of everything, about how Bucky basically ruined the one good chance he had at a normal life. Sure, he might be getting ahead of himself, but whatever. Sure, he wasn't in love with her, didn't even have a damn crush on her, but the thing with Lucy; it wouldn't be too hard to pretend.

 

"Oh, so that makes it okay?"

 

"No, god. It doesn't. I just. I don't know, you were just having such a good time--"

 

"And what a shame that would be right? Me, Steve Rogers, having a good time with someone who doesn't look at me like some sick little shrimp. You were the one who set me up on this damn date, but because the for once in your fucking life, the attention wasn't on you. But, No! We can’t have that, can we? So, you had to make it about you!"

 

"No! That's not what this is about. I'm--"

 

“Sorry? Oh, I guess that makes it all okay, because you’re sorry. You know, I’m starting to think that you think that I’ll just forgive you no matter what. So why not just walk all over me, right? Why not just do whatever you want, not think about the consequences, because poor ‘ol Steve Rogers will always come crawling back.”

 

“You can’t be serious right now! I would never walk all over you.”

 

“What about Lucy? Huh? You had no problem being an asshole to her last night!”

 

“That’s different!” Bucky protests, his voice raised. 

 

“Oh, really? How? How is it different?” Steve retorts. 

 

“It just _is!_ It had nothing to do with her, or at least, not really,” Bucky elaborated, his voice tired and exasperated. 

 

“Oh, so it’s about me then? You couldn’t stand the idea of some other girl going for anyone but you, right?” Steve ranted, his voice containing some angry sarcastic humor. 

 

“No! Of course not!” Bucky tried to tell him, but Steve wasn’t listening, he was just red hot with anger and frustration, built up after  _ years  _ of rejection, over and fucking over again. 

 

"Then what is it, Bucky? What is it about?" Steve pushed, his headache worsening from all the yelling. Bucky said nothing, his mouth snapped closed. They looked at each other for a few seconds, Steve’s face red from anger, and Bucky’s face pinched tight. 

 

After about a minute of dead silence, it seemed that Bucky wasn’t going to say anything.

 

“You know what, I’m too fuckin’ hungover for this.” Steve threw his hands up, grabbing his discarded slacks from last night and pulling them on, and then making his way for the coat rack and slipping on his coat, not caring that it was too cold for him to be going out in his undershirt. 

 

He stomps off, making his way towards the diner that will have to stand as his hangover remedy. It’s a couple blocks away, and the walk gives him time to think about everything, calm himself down. But, of course, the cold did nothing to dilute his frustration, the silence giving him room to circle and spiral with his emotions.

 

Stupid Bucky. Who gives a fuck if Steve’s kinda in love with the guy, being an asshole is still being an asshole. But then again, Steve has always had a bit of a weakness for Bucky Barnes. Tears threatened to spill over, and the last thing he needs right now is to cry out in public, he knows he getting looks already, adding angry tears to the mix would not be helpful.

 

Bucky is just so damn frustrating. There’s really no other way to put it, right now, Steve’s just frustrated. He needs a drink. It’s not even noon and he already wants a damn drink, but maybe that’s his hangover talking. 

 

He finally reaches the diner, making way towards the bar stool, and signaling for a cup of coffee, feeling a sense of deja vu from last night. A young girl, maybe around seventeen, brings him a cup of hot coffee, giving him a warm smile. She asks if she can take his order, and he realizes all he can really afford right now is some toast. She nods and goes off to give his very small order to the cook. 

 

God, his head hurts. He rubs his temple and brings his head down the counter. Then, he remembers how gross these diners actually are, and brings his forearms up on the counter so he can avoid getting germs on his forehead. 

 

He sits alone at the diner, munching on his toast angrily. God, he wants to punch someone. Maybe he should punch someone, maybe just to spite Bucky. He finishes up his very small meal, his head still pounding, although his stomach feels a bit better. He pays and leaves, head still swimming. 

 

He wonders if it's even worth it to be mad at Bucky still, he apologized and there was nothing Bucky could to do take it back. 

 

Then, he thinks, yeah, it's definitely warranted anger. He can't keep roaming the streets like this, when it's cold out and the air is dry, not without his asthma cigarettes or Bucky to help him out. So, he goes home, even though the last person he wants to see is Bucky, and he knows it's both of their days off, so there's no way that Bucky's somewhere else. 

 

By some miracle, Bucky wasn't home. There was, however, a little note laid out on the couch that read; 

 

_ Steve,  _

 

_ I'm sorry that I suck at apologizing. I'm sorry for ruining your date and hurting Lucy's feelings. I'm not here right now because I'm apologizing to Lucy and Caroline and hopefully they won't slap me or something, I don't know. I would probably deserve it. _

 

_ I want to apologize, in person, because if there's one thing I know about you, it that you don't like cowards and cowards write notes of apology instead of saying it to their best friends face.  _

 

_ I'll see you soon, _

 

_ Bucky _

 

Steve put the note down, flopping on the couch, his stomach ache worsening and turning into bundled up nerves. He can't even afford to think about all this right now, because of course the one day he and Bucky get in a fight, it's the day he has one of the worst hangovers of his life. If it weren't for the coffee, Steve probably would have been out like a light by now, and although he still feels bone tired, his body doesn't seem to want to let him sleep. So, he retrieves his sketchbook from his dresser and sets it in his mind that he was going to sketch anything but Bucky, like the stubborn guy he is. 

 

His pencil was stilled hovering over the paper as he searched his mind for something to draw, but all it was unhelpfully supplying was the one man he was trying not to think about. He decided to sketch Lucy, he got a pretty good look at her last night, maybe he could give it to her as an apology. 

 

He gets working, but unlike whenever he sketches Bucky, his pencil moves grudgingly, there's no spark, it feels moot, empty. He tries at it for about another half hour, and then he just decides to sketch Bucky anyway. 

 

-

 

Bucky comes home a couple hours later, coming into the apartment and waking Steve up out of the nap that he didn't mean to take. His neck is sore and has a bit of a crick in it, but his headache has for the most part gone away. Steve doesn't really know what to say to Bucky, who's just standing there by the door in his thin coat with a guilty smile. 

 

"Hey," Bucky greets, quietly. 

 

"Hi," Steve finally says, letting out a breath. Bucky shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. He's wearing his nicest clothes. 

 

"Did you get my note?" Bucky asked him, sitting next to Steve, who moves his legs for him. Steve nods.

 

"Well, I formally apologized to the both of them. Lucy is still a bit sore at me right now, but she says she'd love to go out dancing again. Without me there, of course."

 

"And what about Caroline?" Steve asked. 

 

"Probably won't be seeing her for some time, but that's alright. It ain't about me." Bucky assured him. Steve is a bit ashamed that he’s a bit happy to hear it, for reason of Bucky getting a taste of his own medicine. He also might be a bit scared to lose Bucky, and if Caroline could forgive him for this, then that’s one more thing that another girl could do for Bucky that Steve might never do. 

 

"And what's it about?" 

 

"You. Your life. Being nice to people. I don't know. I'm really sorry." Bucky gives him guilty eyes and puts a hand on his shoulder. Steve shrugs it off. He feels a little bit better, knowing that the girls were apologized to and all that, but for some reason, he feels unsatisfied. He still wants to know why Bucky got all mad, he never answered Steve this morning. Maybe he's holding on the hope of more meaning behind the unanswered question. He wants to hear Bucky say it, even if he might never say exactly what Steve wants to hear.

 

"Why did you do it?"

 

"Apologize? Because you're my best friend and I want to see you happy. You had a good thing going with Lucy and I don't want to see that ruined because of me." Bucky

 

"You know what I mean. I want an explanation." Steve stuck out his jaw, not wanting to back down. Bucky squirms a bit and looks away.

 

"I can't tell you that," Bucky told him, his voice firm. 

 

"Why not? Don't I deserve an explanation? Why do Lucy and Caroline get one but I don't?"

 

"Trust me, Steve, you don't want to hear it. Just  _ let it go. _ " Bucky’s voice faltered, his eyes looking a bit glassy. 

 

"When have you ever known me to let something go? I won't be mad at you anymore if you tell me." Steve tried to negotiate, his curiosity blooming even more from Bucky’s resistance. 

 

"I'll just give you something else to be mad at me for."

 

"C'mon, Buck. Tell me. Now I'm interested." Steve pushed, as he seems to do best now. He knows he’s crossing a line, but as always his curiosity and false hope gets the best of him. 

 

"Steve-" 

 

"Please?" Steve cut him off, his voice pleading. 

 

"Stop it! Just fucking stop." Bucky yelled out, putting his head in his hands, leaning over. "Just stop." He says again more, quiet. Steve became stiff, now feeling like the one who messed up. He reaches over to touch Bucky, to comfort him, when Bucky flinches away, "Get away from me," 

 

"No, you don't get to do this," Steve tried again, and Bucky shot up, going over to the kitchen and leaned over the sink. Steve followed him. 

 

"Buck-"  Steve reached out again, and Bucky turned around fast, looking at Steve with hard eyes. 

 

"I was jealous! Okay? I was fucking jealous. I just got caught up in this stupid head of mine, because I was just thinking that you were gonna leave me, and It's just-- I didn't want to lose my best guy. I'm sorry." Bucky spits out, his voice urgent and vulnerable, his eyes frantic and looking everywhere but Steve. 

 

Each word made Steve soften, his shoulders becoming less and less tense. So this is what it was about, Bucky was jealous. It's crazy notion to think that some dame would ever replace Bucky, you'd have to tear Steve away kicking and screaming to make him leave Bucky. 

 

"Bucky, you don't gotta worry. I ain't leavin' you."  

 

"I know, but-- I can't lose you, Steve. I just can't." Bucky says, and he pauses, thinking for a moment. "You're _everything_ to me," he says, his voice a quiet whisper, and he's leaning in close like it's some secret. And, maybe it is. Bucky looks at him after a small silence had passed, his icy blue eyes holding something powerful, something he had seen before, but could never connect the words. Bucky was looking at him like he was a damn world, which is quite the overstatement, but he looked at Steve as if it were true. 

 

At that moment, it all fit into place.

 

Bucky had always been there for him, had always held him when it was cold, when his Ma died. Bucky took him into his care, but never made him feel like he needed it, never made him feel small, or sickly. He didn't stop him from living, like everyone else wanted Steve to, only took care of him when he really needed it. 

 

And, Steve hadn't ever really had friends, so maybe he's a bit off here, but the way Bucky treats him, that doesn't scream friend. 

 

No, it screams love. And not just family love, not the kind that most boys have for each other, or at least the ones outside of the bars Steve goes to. No, this, this is love.

 

Steve looks at Bucky, and really looks at him, and Bucky's looking back. So, he surges forward, pressing his lips to Bucky's, feeling the warmth and the chapped but soft lips. It's brief, but it's everything. He pulls back, and Bucky's face a bit frozen, and maybe a bit dazed too. 

 

"That's why you don't gotta worry about any other girl. Buck, it's always been you." Steve looks at him, right in the face, not backing down now, it's too late to go back, and if he's gonna do this, he's gonna do it right. 

 

Bucky doesn't say anything, and for a second, looking into his blank face, Steve's heart plummets a bit, scared shitless that he really just got it all damn wrong. But, Bucky's face forms a smile, a big one too, and he doesn't say anything, only bringing those calloused hands up to the side of Steve's neck, cradling him, and pulls him in. 

 

If that small, chaste kiss was everything, there wouldn't be any words that could even describe this kiss. This, this was different. Bucky's kissing him, and Steve's kissing back, taking in the warmth that had turned into heat. Bucky pulls him in closer, opening his mouth a bit, letting Steve in. Steve's kissed people before, but it wasn't anything this. It just all felt right, like they were two puzzle pieces coming together, finally put into place. 

 

Steve deepened the kiss, exploring and feeling as much as he could. He didn't know what to focus on, the feeling of Bucky rubbing soft circles with his thumb on his neck, or the feeling of Bucky's back under his shirt, or warmth of Bucky's lips on his; it was a bit overwhelming. But, it was the best kind of overwhelming, the kind where everything is so good and perfect, the kind where you never want it to stop.

 

They do eventually pull away, and Steve's feeling a bit dizzy and lightheaded and maybe a bit more in love. He didn't even know it was possible to love Bucky even more, but there he is, sitting in his shoebox of an apartment, now knowing what his friend's mouth tastes like and feeling like he owns the damn world. 

 

Bucky leans his forehead against Steve's, smiling to himself, and sharing that wonderful smile with Steve, who has the same look on his face. He doesn't say anything, and Steve doesn't either, mostly because he doesn't know exactly what to say. There aren't exactly words for it. 

 

So, they don't say anything, just soak up each other's presence. Steve pulls Bucky closer, nestling his head on Bucky’s chest. like two puzzle pieces. Bucky gives him a tight squeeze and doesn't let go. The high of kissing Bucky died down, and Steve is unfortunately reminded of his headache and queasy stomach. 

 

"You know, that coffee would be pretty nice," Steve mumbles in Bucky's neck. He feels the vibrations and breath of Bucky's laughter against him, like music to his ears. Bucky pulls away, and Steve longs for him, again. Bucky starts to move around the kitchen, grabbing the coffee grounds to fix up some coffee. Steve watches him work as he leans against the counter, marveled at the way he looks so damn good making coffee. He's gonna have to sketch this later, most definitely. 

 

A couple of minutes later, Bucky hands him a warm mug of coffee, and they move to the couch with their mugs in their hands. It must have been some unspoken rule because Steve takes it upon himself to nuzzle up next to Bucky as he sips on the bitter drink with Steve's head is on Bucky's chest, with Bucky's arm wrapped around him, rubbing his hand up and down Steve's back soothingly. 

 

"So. Now what?" Steve says, breaking the silence between them.

 

"Well, what do you want Stevie?" Bucky asked, looking down on Steve with a smirk on his face.

 

"For you to not call me Stevie," Steve countered, cringing at the nickname and secretly cursing Mary Sterling for calling him that in front of Bucky of all people, back in high school. 

 

"But you look so cute when you get mad at me for callin' you Stevie," Steve scowls at him, and Bucky laughs, kissing it away. 

**Author's Note:**

> Special Thanks to [stevebbucks](https://www.stevebbucks.tumblr.com) for organizing this, and my wonderful beta [queertrex](https://www.queertrex.tumblr.com)for dealing with my panic of doing two secret santa things when im already writing a long ass fic. I'm an impulsive idiot, what's new 
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://www.dittywitty.tumblr.com) to cry about my pre war boys in love


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